Drabbles, all centered around Tom Riddle
by Fragorl
Summary: Drabbles, four per update, from a scattering of viewpoints, all about or involving Tom Riddle. The ones on the first page are less than 100 words later the wordcount goes up but never above 400!
1. Chapter 1

**Voldemort Drabbles**

**Erased**

Tom Riddle discovered the mirror of Erased before creating his first horcrux.

He looked into it, confident of what he would see. Already he had assumed the name of Voldemort.

But the mirror can show only our most hidden, fearsome longings. No matter how deeply our subconscious might have buried them. He was haunted by an insight, which would mark a turning point in the war.

Much later when he became Lord Voldemort he was to come across the thing again, with something like trepidation.

But he need not have felt troubled.

It showed him only what he wanted.

**Rival**

When Rodolfus Lestrange learnt of the Dark Lord's deformity he could barely hide his satisfaction.

Surely now, he told himself, he would regain his wife. Bellatrix was forceful, but lacking in constancy. she would not maintain her obsession, he was certain. Not when the beauty of its object had been stripped away.

He stood amongst the followers; waiting, anticipating. Like them when the time came he struggled not to recoil.

All but one.

Red eyes met his, mocking, as with a sinking heart he saw. In her eyes; obsession, adoration, love.

That night, Rodolfus Lestrange conceded he had lost.

**Triumph**

Regulus Black had felt a burning, savage pride, the night his master seared the Dark Mark into his arm. It had marked the greatest of honours.

in the weeks and months that followed he would cling to the memory, the determination to serve the master who would bring about the world he had thought he wanted.

In time, when observation and a master's madness taught him to question those views, the memory was set aside, replaced by a new determination.

Regulus would know that bliss again, as the dark waters closed above his head, having assured that Master's downfall.

**Secret**

Even years beyond Voldemort's defeat, Ginny would remember.

The days, smudged and murky, filled with actions not her own. The fear, twisting her guts as she woke from blackness with blood on her hands.

The determination that this must stop, that she would end it, even as the fascination drew her to his diary once more.

Allowing herself to be lost again in the smooth persuasions of its maker, resolutions set aside, forgotten.

Sometimes she would wake screaming, and then her husband would hold her, whispering reassurance while she would close her eyes, and hear another voice entirely.

Her secret....


	2. Chapter 2

More Tom Riddle drabbles for ya! Like before I have tried to mix up some different perspectives to make it more interesting! I have included the word count seperate as some of them were surprisingly reluctant to be squished within one hundred words! Enjoy and please review!

**Regrets (200)  
**

The sorting was familiar. A comforting ritual in which he would immerse himself, to conceal the pounding of his heart. Fifty years. Fifty generations of students walking through those doors, to take places at the four traditional tables of Hogwarts. Numberless students, beyond measure, but only two to meet his eyes.

Orphans both, one by the cruel twist of chance, one at the cruel hand of the other, green eyes...and black. He would reassure himself later that it was a different resemblance that had thrown him. And yes, the headmaster thought, he was the very picture of James. But it was the memory of another, different sorting that flared unasked for in his mind, a different similarity that made him briefly cold as he took in, dark hair, pale skin, so different, so the same.

An eternity away, but the mistakes he had made, to haunt him even now. He smiled back reassuringly, although inside felt far from certain. This was his redemption, although later he might deny it. Another try, for the other he had failed. And _please_, he had pleaded then silently, _do not let me make the same mistakes again_.

**Title (100)  
**

Even as a child Tom Riddle sought to set aside his name. Already in his school years he would be addressed simply as Voldemort. Later the chosen title would become the word most feared in the wizarding world, and the name forgotten. He would not be thought of in the manner of others of humanity, but rather set aside, distinguished forever, by the title he himself assumed. If as a boy he could have seen the manner in which his success would be assured he might have felt something like uncertainty. But it could not have lasted, it had not really had a chance; how could it have, when to destroy the humanity within himself was all he ever really wanted?

**Shadow (200)  
**

Bellatrix worshipped the Dark Lord. She cast herself willingly at his feet, and no one who beheld her could feel any doubt that she was his most loyal subject. She was quick to obey his word, desperate to please him, single minded in the force of her devotion. Indeed her love for him was so all encompassing that there was no room in her mind or soul for a flicker of uncertainty. She had encountered Tom Riddle and had fallen for his darkness, his eloquence, his ruthlessness and his beauty.

She would never acknowledge that ember of despair as every sacrifice that brought him closer to his goal made him less than what he was. Never contemplate the thought that the boy she had loved had grown to be a petulant child, the Lord that she served so fanatically a predictable sociopath, controlled by his followers. Because to do so, on those darker nights would be to give into despair, to admit that the cause to which she had served with dedication, the man she had loved, was nothing but a shadow.

**Perception (300)  
**

Narcissa was not a death eater.

She served the cause in her own way, by supporting her husband, and as far as she could do so, protecting her son. Yet even as her sister raved, her eyes alight with fervour with this man who styled himself as Dark Lord; even as her husband paced, caught up more by visions of a future recognising the importance of blood status than by the man who promised to deliver it, she held herself at a careful distance.

Always aware of a trace of fear, that she could not entirely recognise, a premonition, that far from carrying them to the heights that they deserved, the skull upon his follower's arms would symbolise their downfall. When the Dark Lord was defeated the first time, her only regret was the connection between her husband and their Order. When He rose again she greeted the news with feigned enthusiasm that barely hid her dread. On the night that her son joined the cause, her fears were sealed.

Because she knew, deep in her heart, the truth. That Voldemort was a tyrant, Bellatrix was insane, and contrary to everything he would have himself and the rest of the world believe, Lucius Malfoy had never learnt to tell the difference between dreams and reality.

I have taken to updating these in batches of four and will hopefully add some more if I get some reviews from you lovely people! Thanks to my first reviewer! xxx


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